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HIS LADY 

OF THE SONNETS 



BY 



ROBERT W. NORWOOD 




BOSTON 

SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 
1915 



V fit 



^ 



Copyright, 1915 
Sherman, French & Company 



SFP 24 1915 

?Cf,A4106a2 



TO 

MY WIFE 



" I shall never, in the years remaining, 
Paint you pictures, no, nor carve you statues, 
Make you music that should all-express me; 
So it seems: I stand on my attainment. 
This of verse alone, one life allows me; 
Verse and nothing else have I to give you. 
Other heights in other lives, God willing: 
All the gifts from all the heights, your own, Love ! " 
Robert Browning. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

His Lady of the Sonnets ... 1 
Antony to Cleopatra, after Ac- 

tium 33 

Paul to Timothy 41 

Dives in Torment 49 

SONNETS AND SONGS 

Fellow Craftsmen 67 

Posca 68 

Reincarnation 69 

Jacob's Dream 70 

Keats . 71 

A Poet's Prayer 72 

What is Religion? 73 

A Song of Spring 74 

A Fallen Angel 75 

A Litany 77 

The Great Comrade 79 

A Revery 80 

Good-bye 81 

David's Song to Michal . . 82 

David before Saul 83 

a vlllanelle of fate .... 84 

One Woman 85 



HIS LADY OF THE SONNETS 



My soul awoke from slumber — the long ease 
Of years that passed away in dull content, 
Not caring what the world's deep voices 

meant — 
Sunk in my dreams, I heard their harmonies 
Like wind-blown clamour of far-calling seas 
That told of Ithaca to sailors spent 
With trouble, and forgetful at the scent 
And taste of fruit plucked from the lotus trees ; 

For as I slept, your footsteps on the grass, 
Your voice, wrought once again the Miracle 
Of Eden; and I saw appear and pass 
Eve in her beauty, binding still the spell 
That Adam felt, when from his opened side 
Stepped Woman forth in loveliness and pride. 



[3] 



II 



I meet you in the mystery of the night, 
A dear Dream-Goddess on a crescent moon; 
An opalescent splendour, like a noon 
Of lilies ; and I wonder that the height 
Should darken for the depth to give me light — ■ 
Light of your face, so lovely that I swoon 
With gazing, and then wake to find how soon 
Joy of the world fades when you fade from 
sight. 

Beholding you, I am Endymion, 
Lost and immortal in Latmian dreams ; 
With Dian bending down to look upon 
Her shepherd, whose asonian slumber seems 
A moment, twinkling like a starry gem 
Among the jewels of her diadem. 



[4] 



Ill 

If I could tell why, when you look at me, 
Dreams that have visited half wakeful nights 
lie-form and shape themselves, and Pisgah- 

sights 
Fill one far valley to a purple sea ; 
And white-domed cities rise with porphyry, 
Jacinth and sapphire gates, beneath the heights, 
Rose-flamed within the dawn where Phoebus 

smites 
Earth with his heel — claiming its lord to be ; 

Then would you know what my heart seeks to 

say 
And falters ere sufficient words be found: 
How all the voiceless night and vocal day 
Love looks on you and trembles into sound; 
Love longs and pleads for his one moment's 

bliss — 
You and him mingled in a silent kiss. 



[5] 



IV 



My love is like a spring among the hills 
Whose brimming waters may not be confined, 
But pour one torrent through the ways that 

wind 
Down to a garden; there the rose distills 
Its nectar ; there a tall, white lily fills 
Night with anointing of two lovers, blind, 
Dumb, deaf, of body, spirit, and of mind 
From breathless blending of far-sundered wills. 

Long ere my love had reached you, hard I 

strove 
To send its torrent through the barren fields ; 
I wanted you, the lilied treasure-trove 
Of innocence, whose dear possession yields 
Immortal gladness to my heart that knows 
How you surpass the lily and the rose. 



[6] 



Like one great opal on the breast of Night, 
Soft and translucent, hangs the orb of June! 
I hear wild pipings of a joyous tune 
Played on a golden reed for the delight 
Of you, my hidden, lovely Eremite — 
You by the fountain from the marble hewn — 
You silent as in dream, with flowers strewn 
About your feet — you goddess, robed in white ! 

Mute and amazed, I at the broken wall 

Lean fearful, lest the sudden, dreadful dawn 

For me Diana's awful doom let fall; 

And I be cursed with curious Actaeon, 

Save that you find in me this strong defence — 

My adoration of your innocence. 



[7] 



VI 



When from the rose-mist of creation grew 
God's patient waiting in your wide-set eyes, 
The morning stars, and all the host that flies 
On wings of love, paused at the wondrous blue 
With which the Master, mindful of the hue, 
Stained first the crystal dome of summer skies ; 
And afterward the violet that vies 
With amethyst, before He fashioned you. 

And I have trembled with those ancient stars ; 
My heart has known the flame-winged seraphs' 

song; 
For no indifferent, dreamy eyelid bars 
Me from the blue, nor veils with lashes long 
Your love, that to my tender gazing grows 
Bold to confess it : I am glad he knows ! 



[8] 



VII 

There came three wise men riding from the 

east; 
One was a king and brought a gift of gold; 
And one bore frankincense that fate foretold ; 
While myrrh was offered by a mitred priest. 
Nor ever hath Love's brave adventure ceased 
Since that fair night ashine with stars and cold, 
When even angels paused their wings to fold — 
Love to adore made one with man and beast. 

Accept three gifts I to thee gladly bring; 
Each hath its own divine significance: 
Gold is the Body thou hast crowned a king; 
My Spirit is the prophet's frankincense; 
Myrrh is the Mind which strives to tell thee all 
Love's mystic and melodious ritual! 



[9] 



VIII 

Sometimes I think that we have lived before, 
And found sweet interest down the centuries 
In all life's little things that charm and please ; 
That we have toiled together at the oar 
In one of Caesar's galleys ; that we bore 
One burden on our backs and bowed the knees 
Of servitude to Charlemagne; and these 
Have taught us how to love for evermore. 

Dear Comrade, we have often changed our 

state ; 
We have been slaves and masters, serfs and 

kings ; 
You have been man, I woman, wont to wait 
Upon my lover's word; rememberings 
Are in the mystic rapture that we feel 
Whenever at your feet a while I kneel. 



[10] 



IX 

Two faces haunt the stillnesses of sleep. 
The first is of a woman I have known 
Past years, in many lives, as on a throne 
Within my heart, for whom I daily keep 
Fast and high vigil while deep calls to deep ; 
You also stir me, like wind-voices blown 
Through woodland hollows where I walk alone 
When twilight and its shadows slowly creep ; 

And I am torn 'twixt love of you and her — 
My dear Dream-Lady of some long ago — 
Till past and present, pausing to confer, 
Determine what I hardly dare to know : 
The faces I have loved and love are one — 
How you have followed me from sun to sun! 



["I 



Last night I crossed the spaces to your side, 
As you lay sleeping in the sacred room 
Of our great moment. Like a lily's bloom, 
Fragile and white were you, my spirit-bride, 
For pain and loneliness with you abide, 
And Death had thought to touch you with his 

doom, 
Until Love stood angelic at the tomb, 
Drew sword, smote him, and life's door opened 

wide. 

I looked on you and breathed upon your hair — 
Your hair of such soft, brown, translucent 

gold! 
Nor did you know that I knelt down in prayer, 
Clasped hands, and worshipped you for the un- 
told 
Magnificence of womanhood divine — 
God's miracle of Water turned to Wine ! 



[12] 






XI 

Paola and Francesca, dead these years, 

And lost forever unto Rimini! 

Lanciotto's garden blooms no more where ye 

Found love is laughter, love is also tears ; 

Is peace and pain, high hopes and sudden fears ; 

That love is gain and loss, an ecstasy 

Of heaven and then hell's hot eternity; 

A balm that soothes the soul, a flame that sears. 

I, too, know of a secret garden where 
Pale asphodels are rivals of the rose; 
And all life's opposites are gathered there 
Before the spirit's agony, that knows 
Gladness ineffable through loving One 
Who hath no equal underneath the sun. 



[13] 



XII 

What has become of our great moment when 
The love we veiled was daringly revealed — 
You in my arms, O Heart — and one kiss sealed 
The covenant? I, who among all men 
Was weakest, gained forthwith the strength of 

ten; 
And you for my sake instantly repealed 
Your prayer for death, that you might live and 

yield 
Me title to possess your spirit's ken. 

We may not ever that dear bliss renew ; 
But what we found has entered into me — 
A change of motive and a fairer view, 
As though God whispered : " Henceforth thou 

shalt be 
Strong to fulfil thy soul ; rise up and make 
Paths and a song in deserts for her sake ! " 



[14] 



XIII 

What barriers are these that bid me stand 
Baffled, amazed, and wrathful at the sign 
That threatens me for claiming what is mine! 
Have we not walked together hand in hand 
Down lanes of Devon; mused upon the sand 
Beside the Bay of Naples ; drunk the wine 
Of famed Fiesole, where Shelley's line 
Thundered of freedom for Italia's land ! 

Tradition built this guarded shadow-wall, 
And Shelley's song hath strength to sing it 

down. 
Come, brave the craven face funereal, 
Of Pharisees who weave of thorns a crown 
For him who has not faltered at the cross, 
But counts that gain which others reckon loss. 



[15] 



XIV 

There needs must be misunderstandings, dear; 
For love is more than the much-written word, — 
Transcends it, as the home-flight of a bird 
Is distanced by the sun. Let fall the fear; 
Let Joy and constant Certainty appear 
Armed with angelic swords of flame that gird 
Their thighs ; for though the day with rain is 

blurred, 
Hark to the singing legions of the year ! 

Always I find gain in lamented loss ; 
Some treasure in the beaten path I tread; 
And that alone survives which bears a cross 
Branded by some hot trial that is dead. 
Last night as I was weeping someone cried : 
" Love cannot live save love be crucified ! " 



[16] 



XV 

Who is to blame that suddenly there fell 
Suspicion like a shadow on our souls? 
Love, who was once supreme, no more controls 
The harmonies. Hark ! Can you hear the bell 
Across the valley of our tears that swell 
The brook called Cedron? 'Tis a flood that 

rolls 
Between us ; while Doubt in his tower tolls 
Love's loss in our dear, shattered miracle. 

Was it a word that somehow clouded thought? 

Was it a flaw in substance of myself 

That proved two tendencies within me 

wrought — 
Plantagenet commingled with the Guelph? 
Ah, Love, if so, have patience, and behold 
How God blends His base metals with the gold. 



[17] 



XVI 

All night my soul groped blindly in a dream 
Through mazes of a mighty corridor, 
Pillared between the stars; and my heart bore 
Its youthful sorrow, calling for the gleam 
Shed from your golden body like a beam 
Sent from the sun — a beauty nevermore 
Mine to behold, to have, to cherish, for 
Faith's rule was ended and Doubt stood su- 
preme ! 

All night my soul groped blindly till the dawn 
Woke on the world with matin song of birds 
And choral thunder of the wind upon 
The mountains ; while the trees chanted the 

words 
Of an old litany that cried the grief 
Of lovers sundered through their lost belief ! 



[18] 



XVII 

Dear Love is fallen, fallen by my hand! 
Lost is my Eden, closed its golden gate ; 
Winged seraphim, guarding the ways, await 
With swords of sudden flame me to withstand. 
I am that uncrowned king at whose command 
Earth and the sky obeyed, things small and 

great 
Bowed down to serve. Oh, terrible the fate 
Of Adam, lonely in an alien land! 

Henceforth in bitterness I shall eat bread. 
Cursed for my sake, the fields, which day adorns 
No more with fruitage of the autumn spread, 
Shall bear me briars and abundant thorns ; 
My glory, too, shall know the moth and rust, — 
Come quickly, Death, and be it : Dust to dust ! 



[19] 



XVIII 

And I have lost you, so the voices say — 
Voices that taunt, deride my silent pain; 
Voices that fall incessant, like the rain 
Throughout this dim and memory-haunted day ! 
Dear Love, come back, resume your ancient 

sway 
For my strong pleading ! Or is it in vain 
That I beneath the stars all night have lain 
Prone upon earth, clay crying unto clay? 

No answer. . . . O thou God-vacated sky, 
Thunder upon my head the riving flame ! 
There is no more for me to do but die ! 
Or else for One, whom now I dare not name, 
At crossroads of the world a watch to keep 
With those who thither come, a while to weep. 



[20] 



XIX 

Last night — or was it in the golden morn — 

Once more I dreamed that I alone did fare 

Forth into spirit-silences; and there 

I found you not ; my star was set ! Forlorn, 

I sought the kindred company of worn 

And stricken souls — lost, sundered souls, who 

bear 
Old and avoided crosses with each care 
Woven together in their crowns of thorn. 

Gods of the patient, vain endeavour, these 
Claimed me and called me fellow, comrade, 

friend, 
And bade me join in their brave litanies; 
Because, though I had failed you, I dared bend 
Before you without hope of one reward, 
Save that in loving you my soul still soared. 



[21] 



XX 

When singing first my smitten heart's lament, 
My thought was only turned upon my pain, 
And I was also querulous with Cain, 
Crying : " This thing that thou on me hast 

sent 
Is more than I can bear ! " But now content, 
Peace, and a quiet joy close the refrain 
Of passionate protesting with a strain 
Of dulcimers and silver trumpets blent: 

For though my shame be branded on my brow, 
And you in tears have driven me afar 
Because I faltered and forgot my vow, 
The night has still for me a single star 
That will not let me quite forget your eyes — 
You, and the dear dream-hours of Paradise ! 



[22] 



XXI 

Since we have sundered been by broken vow 
Of faith and trust — the fault was mine, O 

Heart — 
Much have I learned of Woman and the part 
She plays in shaking from the laden bow 
Life's blossoms ; all that has been, and is now, 
And ever shall be : Science, Music, Art, 
Religion, these, as from a fountain start 
The rivers, have been hers - — Man to endow. 

So must I, wounded in the valley, call 
To you, alone upon the morning-height : 
Praise and thanksgiving for the throw and fall ! 
Vanquished by you, I shall rise up and fight 
Him armed with trident and the subtle mesh — 
Mankind's most ancient enemy, the Flesh ! 



[23] 



XXII 

Through what dark centuries have all your 

kind 
Upon the cross of Sex been crucified! 
Betrayed with kisses, smitten, then denied; 
Mocked in the place of judgment, and made 

blind 
To please the ruling of some priestly mind. 
Along the cobbled highroad straight and wide, 
They have gone bleeding, stumbling forth, and 

died 
That Man through them might his redemption 

find. 

This your rebuke has taught me. Take my 

sword, 
And on your form divine my purple bear ; 
While, kneeling at your feet, I pledge my word 
For King Love's sake in Woman's cause to fare 
Against Tradition's standard — church or 

state — 
And be my Sister's knight and laureate. 



[24] 



XXIII 

O Woman, now thy golden day's at morn! 
Dawn leaps and laughs upon the waiting hills, 
And sings thy freedom; for thy sorrow fills 
The cup at last; and all that thou hast borne 
Pleads thy release! . . . Lord Christ, and 

crowned with thorn, 
Lay bare each sacred agony that spills 
Blood of the crucified pure hearts and wills, 
Brows, hands, and feet, the centuries have torn ! 

This be the song that you have taught me sing, 
The strain you on my ready harp confer. 
Love seeks, as sought each Christ-adoring king, 
But to bow down . . . Gold, frankincense, and 

myrrh, 
Are offered, not the body to possess, 
Neither command, but reverently to bless. 



[25] 



XXIV 

I am all gladness like a little child ! 

Grief's tragic figure of the veiled face 

Fades from my path, moving with measured 

pace 
Back from the splendour that breaks on the 

wild, 
High hills of sorrow, where the storm-clouds 

piled 
In drift of tears. Lo ! with what tender grace 
Joy holds the world again in her embrace 
Since you came forth, and looked on me, and 

smiled. 

Down in the valley shines a scimiter — 

A stream with autumn-gold deep damascened; 

And of the bards of day one loiterer 

Still lingers at his song, securely screened 

By foliage. Dear, what miracle is this, 

Transforming void and chaos with a kiss ! 



[26] 



XXV 

There are so many things to say and do 
After that moment of our breathless bliss 
When separation ends upon a kiss, 
And I have passed the dreary spaces through. 
Words as of one long leashed by silence who 
Finds tongue at last, and, eager, would not 

miss 
Fulfilment of ten thousand fancies ; this 
Must follow my first swift embrace of you. 

Secure within the palaces of thought, 

And guarded by my soul as with a sword, 

These fancies are; no curious eyes have caught 

Their gleam and glory : you alone, Adored, 

May enter the uplifted gates of gold 

To hear and see what never has been told. 



[27] 



XXVI 

There is a little path among the trees 
That leads me to a quiet garden-plot ; 
Thither I go for the content of thought, 
Dreams, and the quiet joy of reveries ; 
And in this place my simple melodies 
Are sung with you beside me — fancies caught 
From the swift moment, as if one forgot 
The truth that cries : " Imaginings are 
these!" 

So have I with the magic of the mind 
Called and compelled you to my lonely heart ; 
And never have you failed me. Now I find 
No more the anguish of dead days ; apart 
From you I faltered ; at your side I gain 
Gladness from sorrow, and peace out of pain ! 



[28] 



XXVII 

Come down the woodland way a while with me. 
Be still, and know the spirit of this place 
That is my garden. How each flower's face 
Turns to us o'er the serried rosemary 
Which guard my lilies from captivity ! 
What slow unfolding of the harebell's grace ! 
What quiet moving of majestic pace 
In the persistence of the shrub and tree! 

Made one with Nature, you, my Love, and I 
Are reconciled ; for life to us is good, 
Who heard a Presence in the garden cry : 
" Delve earth, smite rock, plunge pool, and 

cleave the wood; 
There thou shalt find Me ! " . . . Dear, and we 

have found 
Peace through our loyal kinsmen of the ground. 



[29] 



XXVIII 

Companion of the highroad, hail ! all hail ! 
Day on his shoulder flame of sunset bears, 
As he goes marching where the autumn flares 
A banner to the sky ; in russet mail 
The trees are trooping hither to assail 
Twilight with spears ; a rank of coward cares 
Creep up, as though to take us unawares, 
And find their stratagems of none avail. 

Accept the challenge of the royal hills, 
And dare adventure as we always dared! 
Life with red wine his golden chalice fills, 
And bids us drink to all who forward fared — 
Those lost, white armies of the host of dream ; 
Those dauntless, singing pilgrims of the Gleam ! 



[30] 



XXIX 

Here have we made fair songs on psalteries 
Played tenderly by lovers in all lands. 
Sometimes the strings are smitten by harsh 

hands 
Of anger, doubt, and frowning jealousies ; 
And sometimes are drawn forth sad threnodies 
For dear Love dead. Let him who understands 
Man's way with Woman loose the mystic bands 
That bind my parabled heart-secrecies. 

In dreams again o'er leagues of purple sea 
My bark is borne to some far, fabled strand — 
Dear, how the world is young! I seem to be 
One of famed Helen's lovers ; her command 
Is in your eyes as you gaze forth from Troy — 
Immortal in your beauty and your joy. 



[31] 



XXX 

My Lady of the Sonnets, one word more, 
The last ; and, after, let the silence fall. 
Our year is ended, and things great and small 
Glow with its glory ; could we live it o'er, 
What would we scatter from its precious store 
Of pearl, chalcedony, and topaz — all 
The many -jewelled moments that we call 
Love's treasure — we who had not loved before ! 

Into that treasure plunge we both our hands, 
The while we laugh, and love, and live again. 
What rainbow-splendours and what golden 

sands 
Fall from our fingers ! . . . Now let come the 

pain 
And steal the shadow, moan the wintry sea ; 
Locked is the casket : in your hands the key ! 



[32] 



ANTONY TO CLEOPATRA, 
AFTER ACTIUM 



Day is all drenched with heavy rain of tears ; 
The silences of joy are lost in sound 
Of sorrow ; for I weep the wasted years — 
Wasted as wine poured out upon the ground 
From beakers brimming red for thirsty lips. 
Hushed are the trumpets that will call no more ; 
Lonely and vast the spaces of the sea 
Where oft my mariners have flashed the oar 
And ploughed deep furrows with my scarlet 

ships — 
Eager and ready for the fight, and free. 



II 



Egypt ! My Egypt ! Actium, and thou 
The glory and the wonder of the world, 
Titles and place, all that I had are now 
Rolled up within a sphere of flame and hurled 
Into the gulfs of doom; quaking of earth, 
And thunder, as of gods deriding, fill 
The darkness and the void of those abysses : 
Yet in my anger and my anguish still 
Hath Love his ancient way, stirring to birth 
Dreams of the lost, dead days, thy lips and 
kisses. 



[35] 



in 



Yea, I must love thee though I fall and die ! 

Yea, hath my heart become for Love a lyre, 

And he hath syllabled thy name, and I 

Fill in each silence with a song; aspire 

To rival in my rapture Euterpe. 

For life or death, Elysium or Doom, 

We soar and sink together through the vast 

And unrevealed, dim reaches of the Room 

Whose walls are Night, and its wide portals 

three — 
The Future, and the Present, and the Past! 



IV 



Leave thou thy chamber and its spectral 

glooms ; 
Rise like the morn upon the mountains ; stand, 
My Rose of Dawn, among all lesser blooms, 
And with white lilies mate each slender hand, 
And let the sky grow glorious and blue 
To match thine eyes ! . . . Come, Queen, and 

my Adored, 
Clothed in thy splendour as I saw thee first! 
Oh, come, ere I thwart Caesar on my sword, 
And with my body pay him what is due ! 
Quench with thy lips on mine, O Heart, love's 

thirst. 

[36] 



Why dost thou linger, thou the miracle 
Among all marvels ? Hither call the birds ; 
The faint, far song of rivers ; silver bell 
And pause of twilight, when the crooning words 
Of mothers bending over babes awake 
Echoes of whispers through the reeds and grass: 
Let these and other voices vie with thine, 
And lo ! the god who vanquished Marsyas 
Yields thee his harp, and one by one forsake 
The nymphs their singing for thy voice divine. 



VI 



O beauty, beauty that can never die! 
O music, music meeting on thy mouth ! 
Challenge the wings of morning, bid them fly 
Over the earth, east, west, north, and south, 
To find one other woman fair as thou ; 
One other woman in whom harmonies 
Rise up like fountains singing in the sun. 
Supernal Wonder! thou art more than these 
Frail jars of perfumed balsams from the bough 
Of Life's tree, emptied ere the day be done. 



[37] 



VII 

Since thou wast born, the dreamy lotus blows 
Its blossomed buds no more in vales of ease ; 
Mnemosyne revives where Lethe flows 
Past sad, lost souls; for he who beauty sees, 
That moment lives forever, and the sight 
Shatters the crystal chalices of dream; 
While phantom faces form, and legions wan 
And ghostly gather from the dark to stream 
Out through the wide, star-studded gates of 

night, 
Claiming the open portals of the dawn ! 



VIII 

Behold the chaff is beaten from the wheat : 
Dost thou not hear the flails upon the floor? 
Within the presses purple-stained feet 
Bruise joy from out the grape, and o'er and 

o'er 
The tale of Bacchus and the vine is told. 
Laughter and dance and song are everywhere. 
Shall we who live and love be then denied 
The harvest ? Nay ; the fields are not all bare ; 
Still have they fragrant autumn gourds of gold ; 
The trees have yet their majesty and pride. 



[38] 



IX 

Listen and hear Rome roaring from afar ! 
Oh, hearken to the tumult of the hordes 
Of Cassar, drunk with the red wine of war ! 
Blow trumpets ! Clang, brazen shields and 

swords, 
Your thunder to the steady march of men ! 
And sing, O purple pennons that unfold 
Beneath the bronze-tipped menace of the 

spears ! 
The gods ! The gods are gleaming on the gold, 
Wide-winged, great eagles of the Tiber, when 
The standard of the Emperor appears ! 



Come, Cleopatra, from thy prison break, 
And I will gather now my waiting band — 
My cohorts ; yea, I will rise up and shake 
Over Octavius a mighty hand; 
Yea, I — What sayest thou? The Queen is 
dead ? 

O Joy of gods and men ! thou couldst not die 

Never to Cleopatra could come death ! 
There, lad ! hold thou my sword, and let me fly 
On wings of love to realms unvisited 
Where Cleopatra, waiting, wandereth ! 



f391 



PAUL TO TIMOTHY 



The long day ends at last, O Timothy, 
And I, Paul, prisoner of Jesus Christ, 
Wait for the dark. 

Upon my window-ledge 
A sparrow twitters, pecks at the iron bars 
As though to set me free this night of Rome. 
A lad is singing somewhere in the street; 
His voice, careless and free, recalls Cilicia — 
Tarsus, my city, where the Cydnus flows — 
Recalls those first, far days when in my heart 
No pain had found a place, and I was Saul — 
Named for the Son of Kish — A Benjamite. 

How swiftly Age turns back the gate of Time, 
And with what eager pace pursues the path 
Trod by the feet of Childhood ! I can see 
The scarlet-prowed Phenician ships, triremes 
Down from the Tiber, and Egyptian barges, 
Abundant fruitage of the date and palm, 
Tall, Bacchic amphora, and perfumed bales 
Of Tyrian purple, stand along the quay ; 
And I can hear the sailors and their songs, 
The strange, brown mariners of many seas, 
With arms like anchor-cables in. their strength : 
Oh, then was I a wanderer of earth, 
And dreamed of brave adventure in far lands ! 

They say the Hebrew burning in my blood 
Closed all life's doors, save one, upon the world ; 
That I, the Pharisee of Pharisees, 
[43] 



Contemned the beauty and the song of Greece! 
How little do they know, my Timothy, 
My dear disciple, and my bosom friend, 
Heart, soul, feet, hands, eyes, ears, and lips of 

Paul, 
How little do they know ! 

To-morrow morn 
Without the city wall I shall kneel down 
Before the Roman sword and die ! 

O Death, 
Where is thy sting? O Grave. . . . 

The lad still sings ! 
Would thou could hear his song: Anacreon? 
Nay; Sappho! He? Athenian, I think. 
'Tis such a voice as that which Eunice heard — 
Son of the Faith once and for all delivered — 
Oft in the streets of Lystra's eventide, 
Telling of Timothy returning home, 
Or ever thou didst follow Christ and Paul. 
Why doth he sing, and hale me back to life 
Who on the morn must die? And Sappho's 

song! 
Flee from this wicked world ordained to death! 
The wrath of God is kindled in the sky, 
And Babylon shall be consumed in smoke ! 

How all the gold has gone from out the west : 
'Tis crimson now, and on the Forum falls 
A menace as of blood ! 

[44] 



O Babylon, 
The cup of thine iniquity is full, 
And runneth over even to the ground! 

Still doth he sing; and always Sappho's song! 
Greece, the tongue of Homer and of Paul 
Is in that song! Behold, the sound thereof 
Goes forth unto the ends of all the world ; 
And neither speech nor language shall prevail 
Upon its magic and its mastery ! 

How little do they know, son Timothy, 
Of Paul, the prisoner of Jesus Christ. 
A Pharisee? Yea, straitest of that sect. 
Learned in the law? Aye, from Gamaliel. 
And persecutor of the Church of God? 
Saul who consented unto Stephen's death ! 
Ah, woe is me! Yet little do they know, 
Who know not this : the law of sin and death 
Is done away in Christ, by Whom all things 
Are sanctified ; and neither Jew nor Greek, 
And neither bond nor free, exist in Him 
Who is the First Begotten Son of God, 
The Keystone of life's slow-ascending arch, 
And Who completeth all things in Himself. 

Nathless, I found this truth not easily: 
In those far boyhood days beside the Cydnus, 
Watching the sailors and the ships, I felt 
Shame of my passion for the many tones 

[45] 



And tinctures of the coloured sails and prows, 
Shame at the tumult in my heart at songs 
Sung by the boatmen ; for the law is hard, 
And presseth with a heavy hand upon 
Youth and the innocent delights of youth. 

Young Rabbi Saul the Thunderer, and Saul 
Consenting unto Stephen's death, are dead ; 
Slain by the piercing of the Cross of Christ! 
Christ of the lilies — He Who loved the fields, 
And heard the children in the market place 
Complaining at the unresponsive feet, 
And ears deaf to their piping and sweet song. 

Doth He know my lad singing in the street — 
My young Athenian, whose voice for Paul 
Breathes Ave atque Vale on the world? 

Christ is not quickly learned; and gradual 
Is the progression of a soul to Him. 
Hard strove I through the barriers of thought, 
And one by one dissolved the old ideas 
That misted o'er the mountains of desire, 
Before I found that all things beautiful, 
Like lilies of the open field, are spread 
Beneath the benediction of His love. 

Write this again: There is no bond nor free! 
This is the Faith; and this is Jesus Christ, 
The Saviour of the world ! 

[46] 



Think what it means, 
O Timothy, this Faith thou hast received 
To give and guard at Ephesus. Let fall 
Distinctions from henceforth, and keep in one 
The diverse aspirations of mankind. 
Jerusalem and Alexandria, 
Rome, Athens, Corinth and Iconium, 
Moses and Socrates, Plato and Paul, 
Isaiah, Homer, and Euripides, 
Bezaleel and thine own Phidias, 
David and Sappho — all are in His heart ! 

Thou wilt remember what I lately wrote — 
The feet of him who bears that letter speed, 
As sped Pheidippides — " All inspired Scripture 
Is given of God ;" for nothing beautiful 
Lives but by breathing of the Holy Ghost. 

Force is of Satan ; Art the child of God ; 
And they, who like this foredoomed Babylon 
Build citadels cemented by men's blood, 
Are numbered with the damned ! 

Do I not know ? 
Am I not Paul, the prisoner of Christ? 

Creators of sweet sounds and lovely forms 
Care not for Babylon ; they seek the hills, 
And know God in the thunders of the seas ; 
They find Him where pomegranate and the pine 

[47] 



Are passionate with pleading of all souls 
That are with dross of earth unsatisfied. 
This have I learned from the Athenian 
Who sings the song of Sappho unto Paul. 

Gone are the gold and scarlet from the west ; 

Night falls ; and Rome is like the Galaxy — 

Indefinite with stars. A myriad 

Of tiny flames are flaring on the hills ; 

And in those evening fires the souls of men 

Are manifested — souls that upward burn 

In emulation of the beautiful : 

For the invisible, pure things of Him 

From the creation of the world are seen 

And understood by what is made. One God, 

One Law, one Hope, one Faith, and one Desire, 

Are in the impulse of creative hands, 

And on the lips that sing — as sings the lad 

To Paul the prisoner, great Sappho's song! 



[48] 



DIVES IN TORMENT 



Out of the gulf of a grief that is flame, 
Spent with the storm of an aeon of tears, 
Call I at last the Ineffable Name — 
Thou Who art throned o'er the flood of the 
years ! 

Dim are the depths of the City of Dis 
Where Thou hast plunged me ; an infinite pain 
Harries me on to its lowest abyss, 
Beats on my head in a torment of rain. 

Shapes that are dreadful with uttermost hate 
Follow me down, and a Voice follows after: 
Stay ! thou dost flee from the furies of Fate ! 
Hell trembles with their demoniac laughter. 

Why didst Thou form me so helpless and frail 
Out of the clod and allied to the star? 
Lured by the vision and fashioned to fail, 
Is it my fault I have fallen so far? 

Why in my breast didst Thou kindle desire, 
Love for the lips of a woman divine? 
Why did I swoon at the sound of the lyre, 
Dance and grow wild in the wonder of wine? 

God, how I hate Thee enthroned in the sky ; 
Cruel Omnipotence torturing me ! 
Clenched are these manacled hands that defy 
Hosts of the seraphim singing to Thee! 
[51] 



Paused One a moment and played on a harp, 
Joyous and free in the quest of his star : 
Passed and was gone, in despair of the sharp 
Pain that smote me like a swift scimetar — 

Pain that was memory stirred by his song — 
Breath of the lily and breath of the rose, 
Myrrh on the fingers of maidens that throng 
Home from the pools when the day is at close : 

Hark! how they sing as they carry the jars 
High on the shoulder : " Home, home from the 

well! 
Gold on the dates is the kiss of the stars, 
Soft as the kiss of betrothal that fell 

Sweet on the lips when my lover claimed me 
Caught in the vineyard, delayed by the moon 
Orbed in the west, which I tarried to see : — 
Night hath a charm that is not in the noon." 

Flight of the Seraph, thou bringest me this — 
Love and the laughter of maidens who tell 
Life is revealed in the breath of a kiss ; 
Softly they sing it : " Home, home from the 
well ! " 

Flight of the Seraph, delay, oh, delay! 
Spread wide those pinions of purple and gold ; 
Strike on the strings, O my Harpist, and play ! 
Sing me that song that they anthemed of old, 
[52] 



When from the dust all my members were made, 
When o'er the cradle a mother looked down, 
Saw me, her first-born, and clasped me and 

prayed 
God to bequeath me a sceptre and crown ! 

Sing till Jehovah is shamed by that prayer — 

False to the covenant sealed by her pain, 

He Who hath damned what she suckled with 

care — 
Sing back the years, and her love is again ! 

Gone is the Seraph ! O God ! and O God ! 
Thou only art left, Thou only, and I — 
Wouldst have my pity? I who am a clod 
Give that much, Torturer, throned in the 
sky. 

Man is unconquered, Jehovah hath failed ; 
Love and not Hate is the end of the law ! 
Lonely is He, and His heart is assailed 
By the swift arrow He ventured to draw — 

Head to the bow and the haft to the cord — 
Arrow called " Judgment " and " Rod of His 

Might," 
Barbed with the vengeance and wrath of the 

Lord, 
Winged with the flame of an infinite Right ! 

[53] 



Yea, Thou hast pity ! and Man will forgive — 
Man will forgive and Thine anger forget — 
Man who hath learned in the dying, to live ! 
Open the books, for the judgment is set: 

Was I to blame that Lazarus lurked 
Loathsome with sores at the banqueting hall, 
Vile in return for the labour he shirked, 
Begging for crumbs when the world was his all ? 

" The race to the swift," the proverb hath said ; 
Fleet-footed I strove and won to the goal, 
Got me a palace, anointed my head, 
Unctioned my body and pleasured my soul — 

Pleasured my soul that is tortured in hell ! 
Unctioned my body that crumbles to dust ! 
Got me a palace whose pinnacles fell! 
Gone are the garments to moth and to rust ! 

Dim are the depths of the gulf of my pain ! 
Memory burns ! . . . The fine linen ! . . . The 

feast ! 
Beautiful faces of souls I have slain ! 
Blood of the threatening prophet and priest ! 

Lazarus ! thou like a dream in the night 
Ere one awaketh to find that the day 
Leaps on the hills in the joy of his might, 
Sings till the shadows are driven away ! 
[54] 



Lazarus ! thou like a god in his star 
Speeding through space, and whose chariot 

wheels 
Thunder on pavements of crystal, and jar 
Hell's deep foundations ! My spirit appeals, 

Clamours and cries in protest of its pain, 
Rages and rails at the wreck and the wrong 
Done by Jehovah ! Revenge is in vain ; 
Hate hurls at Hate with a hate that is strong! 

Lazarus, why art thou come unto me? 
Stand like a star on a mountain of morn, 
Spirit redeemed by Jehovah's decree, 
And drink to the dregs of my chalice of scorn. 

Bitter the chalice of Dives' disgrace! 
Shudderest thou at the purple stained brim ! 
Drink ! or I dash the cup full in thy face — 
Drink ! and then back to hosannah and hymn ! 

Fade from my sight! and thy glory withdraw 
Over the gulf to dim islands of palm, 
Where the Redeemed by the blood of the law 
Sing to the Lord on their harps, with a psalm ! 

Taunt me not, Lazarus, thou, and thy smile! 
Pity or scorn I regard not ! Away ! 
Is Paradise lonely that thou must beguile 
Hell with thy holiness ! What does thou say? 
[55] 



Nay, thou are silent ; why wilt thou not speak ? 
This is the torment : that never a word, 
Touch of a hand, or of lips on my cheek 
Cloud of Gehenna's death-stillness hath stirred. 

Think of it, Lazarus ! Thou wast alone ; 
Down by the gate of my palace didst call: 
" Give of thy bread! " and I gave thee a stone! 
Lazarus ! Lazarus ! I would give all — 

I would give all, for I know thou didst crave 
Love, only love, who had no one to love ; 
Even as I who have learned in the grave 
What I had missed in the earth-life above. 

Life is in loving: and lonely is he 
Who hath not found in the flower and fern, 
Song of the bird and the hum of the bee, 
Voice and a prayer as of spirits that yearn 

Upward forever to fellowship ; strive 
Bravely for place in the legions of light ; 
Dauntless of death in the tempest they thrive, 
Laugh and are glad of the foe and the fight. 

This was my failure, who thought that the feast 
Rivalled the rapture of bird on the wing ; 
Rivalled the lily all robed like a priest; 
Smoke of the pollen when rose-censers swing. 
[56] 



This was my folly, who gave for a gown — 
Purple and gold, and a bracelet and rings, 
Shouts in the streets as I rode through the 

town — 
Life in the love of the kinship of things. 

Lazarus ! Lazarus ! This is my thirst, 
Fever from flame of the love I have missed ; 
Ache of the heart for the friends I have 

cursed ; 
Longing for lips that I never have kissed! 

Hell is for him who hath never found God 
Hid in the bramble that burns by the way ; 
Findeth Him not in the stone and the clod ; 
Heareth Him not at the cool of the day. 

Hell is for him who hath never found Man ! 
God and my Brother, I failing to find, 
Failed to find me ; so my days were a span 
Void of the triumph of Spirit and Mind. 

Once, I recall, at the table I leaned 

Back on the breast of Pomona, my slave, 

Saw through the window, with lattice-work 

screened, 
Thee in thy rags, and I laughed! then grew 

grave : 

[57] 



Up the white street came a Man with a face 
Sad with the woe and the pain of the world ; 
Moving with kingliness, ease, and a grace; 
Crowned with wine-coloured hair wavy and 
curled 

Over broad shoulders, so broad that I vowed 
Here was Messias — the Samson — the King ! 
Leaped from the table and joined with the 

crowd ; 
Offered my purple, my bracelet, my ring! 

Then through the clamour and dust of the 

street 
Words of rebuke were directed to me: 
" Lift thou up Lazarus ; give him a seat 
High among all who are feasting with thee." 

Lift up the beggar ! I laughed at Him there — 
" Thou and Thy tattered ones take to the 

street — 
I to the palace . . . Begone ! . . . And beware ! 
Caiaphas comes, and the Sanhedrin meet! 

" Go ! or I hale Thee to judgment of them ; 
Go ! or Thy God shall avail Thee in vain ; 
Thou art of Japheth, and I am of Shem 
Lazarus, outcast and cursed with Cain ! 
[58] 



" Needs must there be a division of men ; 
Hewer of wood is the Gibeonite, 
Cutter of stone in the quarries, and then 
Slave to the Covenant-Israelite." 

" Nay, all are equal and loved of the Lord," 
Whispered the Stranger. The listening street, 
Filled with the murmur of those who adored, 
Hushed at the sound of His voice that was 
sweet, 

Stirring my heart as a harp in the hall, 
Silent for ages, is stirred by the wind 
Breathed through the arras ; and memories call 
Over the summits of spirit and mind. 

Yea, for a moment I struggled with Love ; 
Yearned to embrace thee and pour on thy hair 
Oil of anointing, and place thee above 
All of the guests who were gathering there — 

There in my palace of pleasure and ease, 
Builded by Herod, and bought with my gold, 
Portaled and curtained with soft tapestries 
Woven at looms of the Orient, sold 

Down in Damascus. A palm in the sands, 
That was my palace; a palm with a soul 
Breathing of beauty when each leaf expands 
Out to the desert which brims like a bowl — 
[59] 



Brims like a bowl of Falernian wine 
Turned to the sun! my palace and hall! 
sound of the psaltery under the vine 
Grown in the garden ! O footsteps that fall 

Soft as the leaves in a pomegranate grove, 
Soft on the pavement of beryl and pearl 
Under the moon when my Miriam strove, 
Laughing, to dance down the Syrian girl! 

These thrust between my compassion and 

thee — 
Beauty that mocked like a maid from her 

bower — 
Beauty that looked through the lattice at 

me; 
Sighed : " I have tarried, my Love, for this 

hour!" 

Then to the palace all flaming I went, 
Flaming with love for Pomona, my pride. 
Back like a bow her dear body I bent, 
Kissed her and placed her in joy at my side ; 

Crowned her with myrtle, proclaimed her a 

queen ; 
Drank to her eyes and her lips and her hair; 
Clasped on her throat of an ivory sheen 
Gems of an order kings only might wear. 
[60] 



Oh, how she sparkled and gleamed like a sword ! 
Oh, how the cymbals and tabours did sound ! 
Oh, my Pomona, my loved and adored — 
Dust of the body is dust of the ground ! 

For I forgot Him, and bought with my gold 
Houses and lands. Yea, I sought far and wide 
Pleasure and ease. Then one day I was 

old. . . . 
Darkness came over the noon . . . and I died! 

Dead and companioned in pomp to the grave ! 
Dead and forgotten in less than a day 
Save by Pomona, my mistress and slave 
Sold unto Herod! . . . Oh, she had a way, 

Turn of the head and glance of the eye ! 
Touch of the hand and a fall of the feet ! 
Voice that was coo of the dove and a cry 
Heard in the night when the seraphim meet ! 

Sometimes I fancy Gehenna's abyss 
Gleams with a light that is love ; and I feel 
Lips on my lips in the tenderest kiss, 
Making hell heaven: as though the appeal 

Sent from my soul to Pomona had gained 
Heart and the whole of her throned on a star, 
Where for an aeon of bliss she hath reigned 
Lonely for Dives so lost and afar! 
[61] 



Lazarus ! Nearer ! The light on thy face 
Shines through the dark! Oh, what glory is 

thine ! 
Nay, not too near lest thou see my disgrace 
Naked ! behold bruised the image divine ! 

Lazarus ! Pity ! Pursue not my soul 
Down the last gulf ! I am fearful of thee — 
Not of Jehovah, Whose thunders may roll 
Over my head — Have thou pity on me ! 

This have I learned in the torment of hell : 
Man is the judge of the soul that hath sin; 
Man must raise man from the depths where he 

fell, 
Hurled by the hand of his passion. Begin, 

Lazarus, Lord of the light and the dark ; 
Stand on the cloud that hath bridged the abyss, 
Judging my cause ; for my spirit is stark 
Under thy glance in abandon of bliss ! 

Yea, there is joy in the judgment; a peace 
I have not known in an aeon of pain ; 
Joy in the thought that thy love will not cease 
Till it hath cleansed all my spirit from stain. 



[621 



Therefore I hail thee, O Lazarus! cry: 
" Hail to the love that restoreth the years 
The locusts have eaten ! Search me and try 
The thought of my heart and the tale of my 
tears ! " 

Try me and prove me ; for I am undone, 
Conquered by love of a love that hath sought 
Me unto hell ! Thou hast triumphed and won, 
Lazarus, who for my spirit hath fought. 

Yield I the trophies of battle; lay down 
All of the pride and the hatred of heart ; 
Weeping I give thee my sceptre and crown ; 
Nothing I claim ; not a tithe, not a part ! 

Lazarus, art thou the same that I saw 
Begging for crumbs ? Thou hast changed, thou 

hast changed! 
Through what dominions of wonder and awe, 
Beauty and joy, hast thou ranged, hast thou 

ranged ? 

Kingly and glorious, mantled with flame, 
Lo ! in thyself the Messias I see. 
Lazarus, thou and the Christ art the same, 
Thou art the Christ and the Master of me — 



[63] 



Thou art Messias ! . . . And this Para- 
dise! . . . 
There is Pomona ! . . . There Mother who gave 
Breast to her babe ! . . . From Gehenna I rise 
Cleansed by a love that is mighty to save ! 

Light, and the sound of a song that is love! 
Light, and the freedom of spirit to soar ! 
Light, and Messias enthroned above 
High where the seraphim bow and adore ! 



[64] 



SONNETS AND SONGS 



FELLOW CRAFTSMEN 

As in some workshop where the hammers ring 
And bare-armed artizans toil, blow on blow, 
To make each crude, imperfect member grow 
To the completed plan, rise thou, and fling 
Aside all doubt and languor ; strive to bring 
The deed up to its best; in gladness go 
Undaunted ; have full confidence ; and know 
Thou and thy God can perfect everything ! 



Throughout the busy day He works with us 
And knows that we are tired ; He hears and feels 
The grind of every cog, the plaint, the fuss, 
The purr of pinions in the thousand wheels 
That whir forever down the endless walls, 
Where, as we toil, His light perpetual falls. 



[67] 



POSCA 

The light within the sky was growing dim. 
Death- white, a thorn-crowned face looked from 

a cross 
And watched with dying eyes the soldiers toss 
Dice for the seamless robe they stripped from 

Him; 
And of that number there was one who first 
Was touched with pity for Him hanging there, 
And ran a sponge of vinegar to bear, 
When in His anguish Jesus said : " I thirst ! " 

O nameless soldier of the long ago, 
Yours was the doing of a deathless deed; 
Who braved the people passing to and fro, 
And gave to Christ the sponge upon a reed 
The while His own disciples standing near, 
Dismayed, moved not to help Him in their fear. 



[68] 



REINCARNATION 

I saw three souls before a jasper throne 
That stood, star-canopied, beyond the world 
Where angels knelt before a Presence — furled 
White wings and waited. In vast undertone 
A Voice said : " Choose ! " And instantly 

were shown 
Three chalices : one like a lily curled 
About a stem of gold ; one was empearled 
In silver; one was carved from common stone. 

I saw three souls sink swiftly back to earth ; 
I heard three children wailing in the night ; 
I met three men of diverse rank and birth : 
A king ; a priest ; a slave whose wretched plight 
Moved me to pity, till mine ancient dream 
Recalled the proverb : " Things are not what 
they seem ! " 



[69] 



JACOB'S DREAM 

Lonely and worn by day's dull toil and heat, 
Life lay before me stark, and dead, and drear; 
Night had engulfed the desert, and a fear 
Was on me as of slow, resistless feet 
Of foes invisible, from whom retreat 
Denied me respite ! I knew the moment near — 
Jehovah's hand uplifted, and His spear 
Down-glancing through the dark my heart to 
meet ; 

And as I crouched to take the stroke that fell 
Swift from the sky, a cloud of cherubim 
Burst on my vision with a mighty song 
That filled the wilderness, as though a bell 
Chimed from afar. Then someone said : " Be 

strong, 
Son of the Highest ! Find thyself in Him ! " 



[70] 



KEATS 

To sing, as thou didst in full throated ease, 
Sweeter than thine oft-envied nightingale, 
And with thy singing waken hill and dale 
Until the many harpstrings of the trees 
Murmured in strange and old antiphonies ; 
To wander at thy will into the vale 
Where sleeps Endymion, and tell the tale 
Of Dian's nymphs or Pan's dear dryades : 

Was it, in sooth, too great a price to pay — 
The heart-ache and the passion and the tears 
With which God mixed for thee life's cup of 

gold? 
Against the sadness of thy lot I hold 
The joy of him who sees and feels and hears 
Earth's splendour, fulness, music, night and 

day. 



[71] 



A POET'S PRAYER 

Give me pause and time for dreaming ; 
Send me to some quiet place 
Where the winding water, gleaming, 
Holds a glass before my face. 

Here within the grind and clamour 
I forget what I have known ; 
Life and love have lost their glamour, 
And my heart is turned to stone. 

Shrub and bird and beast are mingled 
With a clumsy dream of man; 
Lost the ancient art that singled 
Hoof and brow of brooding Pan! 

Strike the rock, release the river, 
Bid it through the desert go ; 
Let its shallows dance and quiver, 
And its flood majestic flow; 

Till again the rushing rapture 
Of the poet's soul is mine, 
With its swift pursuit to capture 
Visions that are all divine. 



[72] 



WHAT IS RELIGION? 

What is Religion? — Word of many creeds 
Blared forth in streets by solemn Pharisee, 
And piped in doleful tones on scrannel reeds, 
Untouched by love or tender sympathy 
That moves the soldier where the Master bleeds? 

What is Religion ? — Lofty minster-spires 
And rich mosaics on the chancel wall; 
Deep organ-tones, and silver-throated choirs 
Whose golden Glorias night and morning fall, 
With sanctus-bell and flares of altar-fires? 

What is Religion ? Note of bird on bough ; 
The sunlight falling o'er the waving grass ; 
A child's clear gaze and unashamed brow; 
The little deeds that, living, come and pass 
And are forgot: Religion is, I trow. 

What is Religion? Why, who anywhere 
Stoops down to touch the dusty wayside-flower, 
And then as tenderly the face of care; 
Who thus in love lives on from hour to hour 
Has caught the secret, and has mastered prayer. 



[73] 



A SONG OF SPRING 

Little laughter of the grass; 
Clapping of soft, tiny hands ; 
Fleeting forms that come and pass 
In relays of fairy bands ; 
And the birds upon the wing — 
Tell the secret! It is Spring! 

In the woods the dryades 
Hear the sounding pipes of Pan, 
Leave their temples of the trees 
And return to haunts of man ; 
This the song they sweetly sing — 
Ave! Ave! It is Spring! 

Domed with sapphire is the sky; 
Haze of opal hath the hills ; 
Brown the brooks that rushing by 
Call to their companion rills ; 
These their joyous welcome bring — 
Hail ! All hail ! For it is Spring ! 



[74] 



A FALLEN ANGEL 

Out of the light, 
Into the night, 
God, I am falling! 
Fashioned of flame, 
Spent with my shame, 
God, I am calling! 

All through the day 
Sin has had sway — 
Lost is the token ; 
Evening brings 
Hurt of my wings, 
Blackened and broken. 

Child of a star, 
Thine avatar, 
Drunk from the revel; 
Who am I, God, — 
Spirit or clod, 
Angel or devil? 

Yet Thou hast made 
Me Thy sword-blade — 
Sheathed, that its brightness 
Flash up to win, 
When the last sin 
Burns into whiteness. 

[75] 



Hand that can smite, 
Hold the hilt tight, 
Draw, and strike faster ! 
Strike with me, Lord! 
My soul Thy sword, 
And Thou its Master. 

Strike! till the day 
Grow from the gray 
Gloom of the peril; 
And in the skies 
Dream-domes arise — 
Jacinth and beryl! 



[76] 



A LITANY 

For what we to ourselves have done, 
We who are miracles divine, 
Flares from a universal sun, 
Or lees from an Olympian wine ; 
For the abuse of laughter, 
And tears that follow after; 
For love betrayed, and hope delayed: 
Cry we mercy, God! 

For what we to ourselves have said: 

" Thou hast much goods ; peace, O my Soul, 

Nor fret if beggars cry for bread, 

And show their rags in hope of dole. 

God giveth thee much pleasure, 

Want is the poor man's measure ! " 

For all of these dark heresies : 

Cry we mercy, God! 

For what we on ourselves have wrought — 

Wild havoc with the weird, grotesque, 

Abortive images of thought, 

Making of beauty the burlesque ; 

For much pretence in praying; 

And little heart at playing; 

For smothered smiles and countless guiles: 

Cry we mercy, God! 



[77] 



For casting dice where Jesus bleeds 
Upon His cross, naked, alone ; 
Unheedful in the noise of creeds 
Of Him and His last dying moan ; 
For Rahab robed in scarlet, 
Cursed with the title, " Harlot," 
By the decrees of Pharisees: 
Cry we mercy, God ! 

For the delight of out-of-doors 

Missed in our minsters made of stone, 

Unmindful that pure incense pours 

To Thee from wild rose-petals blown 

Down forest-aisles ; that altar fires 

Burn in the sunset on the hills, 

And from the pine-wood's ancient spires 

The varied chime of evening fills 

All hearts with rapture ; for the light 

Lost on white lilies, and the blue 

Of heaven wasted, the dear night 

With her gold stars and silver dew 

Neglected. Oh, for what we fail 

To find from life so rich and fair — 

The rain, the snow, the sleet, the hail, 

Summer, and blossom-breathing air; 

For every useless sorrow, 

And fears for the to-morrow, 

Not knowing Thee, great Deity: 

Cry we mercy, God! 

[78] 



THE GREAT COMRADE 

I hear Thy voice within the world, 
Thy thunder from the heaven hurled; 

I lean and listen to the trees 
Chanting Thine age-long litanies. 

Over white leagues of ice and snow, 
Through drift and storm I watch Thee go; 

Upon the sea's sad surge behold 
Marks of Thy journey ings manifold. 

Where lilies lowly bow the head 
Some marvel of Thyself is shed; 

Earth's joyous, wild, and wandering things 
Are hints of Thy rememberings. 

From mist of stars upward to man, 
Lord, all Thy ways I dimly scan. 



To what divine and unguessed goals, 
Comrade, invitest Thou all souls ! 



[79] 



A REVERY 

The green sea surges up to land ; 

I feel its salt breath on my cheek; 

In deep-throated tones it seems to speak 

As it falls thundering, seething on the sand. 

The wild gulls circling sweep and cry; 

A thin mist veils the crimson west; 

The great, red sun sinks swiftly down to rest; 

A dying flame crawls flickering up the sky. 

Deep darkness, and the sullen boom 

Of sea receding into dark ; 

I hear a faint, " Hoy, heave hoy ! " I mark 

A vessel's lights that pierce the gloom. 



Night ! and remoteness of the stars ; 

Vast, unrevealed infinitude 

Of ocean, and the interlude 

Of sobbing from the sandy bars ! 



[80] 



GOOD-BYE 

Dear, and dark, and tall 
Lady of my heart, 
Summer roses fall 
Now that we must part! 

What has happened, dear? 
All the flowers are dead ! 
Since you are not near, 
Laughter, too, is fled. 

All the tender blue 
Turned to tearful gray, 
When I said to you, 
" Good-bye," and went away ! 



[81] 



DAVID'S SONG TO MICHAL 

From " The Witch of Endor " 

O Heart, dear Heart, Heart of the wild, red 

rose ! 
Hid in the loveliest flower that grows ; 
Hands of the seraphim scatter, let fall 
Myrrh from thy leaves in the garden of Saul. 

O Heart, dear Heart, Heart of the wild, red 

rose ! 
Breath from the lips of the cherubim blows 
Soft on thy petals ; they whisper and call, 
Laugh and are glad in the garden of Saul. 

O Heart, dear Heart, Heart of the wild, red 

rose ! 
Flame from the gold of the Mercy Seat glows, 
Shines like a star on my love's festival; 
Michal is mine in the garden of Saul ! 



[82] 



DAVID BEFORE SAUL 

From " The Witch of Endor " 

Down by the stream of the waters 
Came the king; and his face was sad, 
Sad with a grief beyond belief, 
For a bitter grief he had: 
To be a king means sorrowing — 
A king may not be glad. 

Down by the stream of the waters 
Came the king, and alone at night ; 
His robe was torn, a crown of thorn 
Was on his brow so white: 
They placed it there, who did not care 
His eyes with tears were bright. 

Down by the stream of the waters, 

Where it flows through the valley of death, 

He came, the king, all sorrowing; 

A sob was in his breath: 

They broke his heart, 'who stood apart — 

The crowd that wondereth. 



[83] 



A VILLANELLE OF FATE 

When the day of life is done, 
And the tools are laid aside, 
We shall slumber one by one. 

Norns their threads of fate have spun - 
Lust and virtue, grace and pride — 
When the day of life is done. 

All that we have here begun 
Must be scattered far and wide ; 
We shall slumber one by one. 

Gone the folly and the fun, 

Spilled the wine and spent the tide, 

When the day of life is done. 

By the marge of Acheron 
Shall dear dreams be then denied, 
When we slumber one by one? 



Build your tower to the sun ! 
Surely death may be defied. 
When the day of life is done, 
Shall we slumber one by one? 



[84] 



ONE WOMAN 

O 1 light that overflows, 
O wind that wildly blows, 
O sweet and tender grace, 
All in One Woman's face! 

O love that is like fire, 
O pain that is desire, 
O melodies that start, 
All in One Woman's heart ! 



[85] 



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